


What You Wish For

by effanineffableplans (Dawn_Blossom)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: And I Mean That Literally, Demon Gabriel (Good Omens), Fallen Angel Gabriel (Good Omens), Hell sends quarterly update emails, Hurt/Comfort, Other, he and Beelzebub are the only ones with a work ethic down there, he falls right into Beelzebub's arms, he'll make a great prince of Hell really, it's all ineffable, it's okay Gabriel just hasn't cried literally ever and now he has to let some things out, which is how Crowley and Aziraphale find out the news, yes that's right Gabriel Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-30 13:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawn_Blossom/pseuds/effanineffableplans
Summary: Gabriel was not familiar enough with humans to have learned the saying “be careful what you wish for.”All the archangel knew was that he had once known the sound of God’s voice, and he would have done anything to hear it again.





	What You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

> Haha do you ever get inspired by a line in one of your wips and have to write a whole new fic based on it? Because uh... (The line was, essentially, this fic's summary, i.e. "Gabriel would have done anything to hear God's voice again," and I went uhhhh WAIT aNYthiNG???) In my defense, I'm trying to write an Ineffable Bureaucracy slowburn and it's burning a little too slow for me to handle.
> 
> In OTHER news, guess who finally watched the show!!! Guess who's, uh, in love with Gabriel now? Ha...ha... I feel like I was *supposed* to immediately hate him, but... instead I took one look at him and went "OH now THERE's an angel who's never relaxed in his life" and um... 
> 
> Anyway now I love my stupid archangel and I want him to stop pretending everything's fine and I want him to ABSOLUTELY BREAK DOWN so... I wrote this to satisfy my emotional needs, you understand.

Gabriel was not familiar enough with humans to have learned the saying “be careful what you wish for.”

All the archangel knew was that he had once known the sound of God’s voice, and he would have done anything to hear it again. But She had been silent for thousands of years, and it was hard to keep hope alive even in the best of times. 

These were not the best of times.

Everything was going wrong, the Great Plan that all of Heaven had worked towards for six thousand years was in tatters, and though Gabriel continuously prayed for Her guidance, he received nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Gabriel didn’t feel right. It was similar to the feeling of having to force himself inside his corporation, only he didn’t think even unleashing his true form was going to help him now. Something deep inside him was breaking, and it wasn;t going to be okay. Humans could hope some well-timed angel would swoop in with a miracle to help them. Gabriel had nothing. God was never going to take his call. The Metatron, hypocrite that he was, had changed his tune the second the apocalypse had failed to go off. Now he praised Aziraphale for figuring out Her will before they had all done something regrettable.

As if Aziraphale had known anything. As if the Metatron had known anything. As if God hadn’t abandoned them all to fend for themselves. 

It was all Aziraphale’s fault. If the War had just _happened_ like it was _supposed_ to, at least something would have changed! They wouldn’t all be stuck doing the same damn office work they’d been doing for six thousand years, only now with no end in sight! The Ineffable Plan was _bullshit._ If God didn’t want a war she could have told them all sooner. She didn’t have to let them carry on like fools, only to be humiliated by an avaricious angel and a cowardly demon. 

His spirit burned with hatred and rage. And it was that which motivated him to seek out Michael.

“I need you to get in touch with someone through the… _backchannels,” he said. “I have a deal to propose.”_

He was Aziraphale’s direct superior, and he could punish the angel for his insubordination no matter what anyone else had to say about it.

It was funny; he didn’t believe Aziraphale knew a damn thing about God until the bastard started spitting Hellfire at him. But only She could arrange for a miracle that big.

Wasn’t that just hilarious.

“So you’re playing favorites again,” he whispered into his phone that night. God hadn’t picked up and Her mailbox was full, but he knew She could hear him. “He hasn’t even been _in_ Heaven since the Beginning. You let him lie to you, and fraternize with a demon, and—”

His throat tightened, and he choked on his next words.

It wasn’t the anger that pushed him over the edge. It was the despair of knowing that nothing he said would ever matter. That nothing he had ever said or done had actually mattered.

Whatever had been building inside him chose that moment to burst. Shattering, he cursed Her name with the breath that escaped him.

He knew immediately that something was wrong. Heaven, which was always blindingly bright, dimmed. Suddenly unable to bear the weight of his exhaustion, he dropped to his knees.

“Gabriel.”

The voice he had longed to hear for so long was finally gracing his ears. It was warm, loving, and everything he should have needed. But in this moment, it was no comfort to him. Hearing Her now, he only wondered what took Her so long. 

“Stand up, Gabriel,” the Almighty’s voice echoed through his entire being. “Haven’t you any faith left in me?”

Gabriel could have dragged himself to his feet. He could have smiled and apologized for his mistakes and gone back to work like nothing had happened.

Except things _had_ happened. A lot of things. And Gabriel didn’t feel like pretending anymore.

“How can I?” he asked. “Where were you when you could have _helped_ us? Are we just jokes to you? Am I a joke?”

“You are the Archangel Gabriel,” She said. “And like all my creations, you have your place.”

“Why don’t you give my place to fucking Aziraphale?” Gabriel snarled. “Since he’s the only one you care about these days!”

The Almighty sighed, and it ruffled each of Gabriel’s feathers.

“You know what happens to those who turn from me,” She said. “Gabriel…”

It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t quite a threat, either. It was a choice.

And Gabriel, who had never actually been asked what he wanted before, made his decision.

He reflected, during his Fall from Grace, that Heaven had it all wrong. The pain didn’t come from what you lost. It came from everything that you were left with.

* * *

All Beelzebub had known for a long time was irritation. Nothing as impressive as wrath, nothing as enjoyable as sloth. Just irritation and an inability to do anything about it.

Zir problems started the day ze became Satan’s second-in-command. In theory, that meant incredible power. In practice, that meant doing _everything_ zirself while zir boss did whatever he felt like, the other princes of Hell screwed around playing with their favorite sins, and zir underlings utterly failed to follow _any_ of the proper protocols. Ze was, unfortunately for zir, the only being with a work ethic in Hell,

Ze was contemplating what a fucking miracle it would be to find some good help when all of a sudden, a body fell from the gaping chasm above straight into zir lap.

“What the _heaven,_ ” ze hissed.

The body shuddered above zir, letting out a moan.

“Be… Beelze…”

“Gabriel?” Beelzebub’s eyes widened. “What are you doing… here…”

Ze trailed off as ze caught the smell of burning wax. Ze knew that scent from long ago.

Ze placed a hand on Gabriel’s back and tried to move him off zir, but he only shifted slightly, his head falling against zir shoulder.

“God you fucking bastard,” Beelzebub growled. “Izz this your idea of a loyalty program? Six fucking thouzzand yearzz and you fire him?”

Gabriel trembled.

“Quit,” he said.

“Azz if that’s any better,” Beelzebub scoffed. After all, ze still remembered all the reasons ze had once stood up and threatened to quit. And then ze’d had to follow through, because nothing had improved.

This was the first time an angel had Fallen since _The_ Fall. Privately, Beelzebub thought Gabriel was awfully lucky to have landed on zir rather than in the lake of sulfur, but ze felt ze ought to wait until he was feeling better to point that out. 

“I don’t think we have a protocol for this,” ze said quietly.

It was directed to zirself, but Gabriel replied anyway.

“Sorry,” he said. “Would have requested visitation if I’d known.”

Visitation, of course, wouldn’t have cut it. He wasn’t an angel coming down for a strictly-as-necessary business exchange. His stay was going to be more permanent.

Beelzebub figured some part of him already understood that, and the rest of him would catch up soon.

“Can you stand up?” ze asked. “So I can look at you?”

From zir current position, ze could see only his wings. They lacked the Heavenly luster ze knew used to be there, but they had not themselves been scorched away. The feathers were horribly out of place, though. Most angels needed a good preening. This was even worse.

Again ze tried to move, but Gabriel only moved with zir, placing a hand on zir shirt to steady himself.

“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t stand. I can’t…”

Beelzebub felt a warm wetness against zir neck. Ze wondered how long it had been since Gabriel had cried. Or if he ever had. The truth was, Beelzebub had never witnessed an angel crying. Only demons were proud about displaying their pain.

Slowly, ze stroked zir hand along his back. Comfort wasn’t a typical demonic activity, but in these circumstances Beelzebub could allow it. Being a demon was eternal agony, but at least you knew everyone else was as miserable as you. And nobody expected you to be perfect.

“You were wasted on Heaven,” ze murmured. “I know you were. You talked down those ten million angry angels and they didn’t even give you a commendation for it.”

Zir words didn’t stop Gabriel’s tears. They weren’t meant to. The Fall was every demon’s greatest torment. Ze wouldn’t try to take that away from him.

But Gabriel had it better than the rest of the Fallen. They all had to fight tooth and nail for a position in the newly created Hell. Gabriel would have something ready for him the moment _he_ was ready. Beelzebub already knew exactly where ze wanted him.

* * *

“Ah, _no,_ ” Crowley groaned, waving around his phone. “It’s the Quarterly Update. You’d think they would have unsubscribed me from this.”

Aziraphale looked up from his book.

“Your— Hel— _They_ haven’t sent anything else, have they?” he asked. “I know _I_ haven’t been contacted. I haven’t even received any passive aggressive ‘your report is late’ notes from Gabriel, although I’m afraid I’ve missed two deadlines now.”

“Nngh,” said Crowley, who had just opened the email at issue. “Think I might know why.”

It was not a pleasant sight. Hell had taken to email about as well as the stereotypical Baby Boomer (“MY MOST GRUESOME BERITH, HAVE YOU HEARD THE NEWS FROM PAIMON? I WAS VERY DISPLEASED TO LEARN IT, HOPE YOU’RE UNWELL,” sent as a reply-all to every single host of Hell). Now, it seemed, they were upgrading… to early-2000s office culture. 

**~ALL HAIL SATAN, WE WELCOME HELL’S NEWEST PRINCE~**

The blocky letters were in a bright font that offered poor contrast against the white background of the email. But that wasn’t the worst part of this particular email. No, the worst part was the picture underneath it.

“Is that…?” Aziraphale gasped as he peered over Crowley’s shoulder. “No! Gabriel would never!”

“Maybe he got a taste of that Hellfire I blew at him and couldn’t give it up,” Crowley muttered, because he was very much still bitter about the whole attempted murder business.

“His face is swollen,” Aziraphale said. “It seems terribly painful.”

“Ugh, is that a centipede wrapped around his neck?” Crowley grimaced. 

“Oh, I thought it was a scarf,” Aziraphale said, scrunching his nose. “But you’re right, my dear. I do believe that is a giant centipede.”

“His wings look good, though. Probably the first time he’s groomed them in six thous— Wait a minute!” Crowley said. “Hold on, he’s a _prince of Hell_ all of a sudden? Who went and made this fucker part of Lower Management?”

“I suspect that would be Beelzebub,” Aziraphale said, pointing at the text underneath the photo.

_~This is my last email to you, as from this point on Gabriel will be taking over all communication functions for me. And you ungrateful bastards had better NOT whine about not getting a promotion, because when I ASKED who wanted to help me spread the news about Armageddon being called off IT WAS NOTHING BUT RADIO SILENCE FROM YOU SPINELESS LITTLE WORMS.~_

“Well…” Crowley frowned. “I guess when you put it like that, his CV checks out.”

“Crowley, you…” Aziraphale peered at the image again. “You don’t think that… Beelzebub and Gabriel…”

“That they what, angel?” Crowley asked, clearly not getting what Aziraphale was going for.

“Oh...” Aziraphale murmured frustratedly. It was just that there was something in the way Gabriel was looking towards the camera. Like he wasn’t looking at it, but behind it. “It’s… I don’t know! Ineffable!”

“Are you saying ‘ineffable’ or ‘Ineffable’?” Crowley asked. He looked like he was going to have some strong words for Aziraphale if it was the latter.

Aziraphale just gazed at him helplessly. He couldn’t explain it, and that’s all there was to it.

It was just that, if Gabriel had truly Fallen… Why did his eyes scream that he’d just been saved?


End file.
